


Budding Linguist

by lindsey_grissom



Series: Counting Sheep [2]
Category: Holby City
Genre: F/F, Fluff, a few less sheep, more married life berena
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-12
Updated: 2017-01-12
Packaged: 2018-09-17 00:41:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9296645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lindsey_grissom/pseuds/lindsey_grissom
Summary: So she doesn't speak Welsh? Surely it doesn't matter that much.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks ever so to my darling beta phantomunmasked.
> 
> Another snippet into Bernie and Serena's life in Wales. Nothing happens. At all. They're just living.

Despite having lived and worked - and fought - in countries rich in dialects and varied languages, Bernie has never had much interest in learning more than the basics.

Sure, she picked things up here and there; words muttered beneath annoyed breaths, shouted across canteen tables, sneered at her as she tried to order a baguette and keep hold of a squirming bundle of five-year-old little boy.

But aside from the odd medical term or curse, very little ever sunk itself into her mind and stayed there longer than she herself remained wherever she was.

It's different for Serena. Serena, she discovers quite early on, loves languages. Loves them. The words, the accents, the spellings.

Bernie comes to enjoy this side of her partner, the side that would whip out a Scottish accent for a single ‘hello’ in AAU, or answers the phone to Elinor and Charlotte with a Mancunian and Liverpudlian accent respectively. The part of Serena that woke up one morning in Paris, turned over in bed to smile at Bernie watching her and proceeded to speak nothing but French for the rest of the day - apparently unconcerned that Bernie barely picked out more than ‘hello’, ‘goodbye’, ‘love’ and she thinks; ‘chicken’ and could hardly sit still for how Serena's rolled ‘r’s affected her.

And yet after all of this - the Italian Incident included; how was she to know that Serena's conversation with the Italian stallion of Darwin was entirely innocent? It's not Bernie's fault that everything sounds suggestive in that language - somehow Bernie never factored Serena's linguistic fervour into their Welsh relocation.

Perhaps because she'd never truly considered Wales to be another country, not until she'd really started to pay attention to the bilingual road signs and the astonishing village names. There's that old joke she once heard on a Victoria Wood sitcom, about Scottish towns and how the usual rules of spelling to pronunciation don't apply; Bernie now suspects Ms Wood stuck to Scotland because the incomprehensible lack of vowels used in the Welsh language scared even her off.

Serena had laughed at her when she suggested this, told her it really wasn't that complicated once you understood the base structures, she just needed a little practice and a bit of studying. Bernie had gone on to say the same to Dominic when he called later that week; he'd been much more sympathetic to her plight.

Her plight being of course, that she now lives in a country where she can only read half the signs and on any given day she'll understand as much of the baa-ing of the sheep, as she will the excited chatter of her elderly neighbours.

The entire matter is not helped in the slightest by Serena insisting that whenever possible, their new 'friends' speak only in Welsh when she's around. Apparently being thrown in at the deep end and told to swim is the way that Serena learns best; total immersion. Bernie should have guessed really; Serena does nothing by halves after all.

"You're grinding your teeth again."

Peering over the rims of her glasses, Bernie makes a point of opening her mouth and waggling her jaw. "Better?"

Serena shrugs, left eyebrow rising as she taps her pen against the book on her lap. "They're your teeth. If you want to end up taking them out at night and storing them in a glass of water by the bed..." she trails off with a smile and Bernie pinches the calf currently across her lap. "Ouch."

Rubbing along Serena's leg in response to her feigned pout, Bernie sighs. "Mrs Jenkins popped in while you were shopping."

"Oh? Is Gareth okay?"

"I don't know."

Serena frowns, tucking her pen inside her book and folding it closed. Despite her frustration, Bernie can't help the smile that twitches her lips; always so concerned about everyone else, her Serena.

"Didn't she say? That's not like her." Honestly, Bernie has to take Serena's word for that because;

"I couldn't understand her," she mumbles.

"Sorry?"

With another sigh, Bernie repeats herself. "She was talking so fast and Mrs Driscoll was there."

Serena nods, understanding passing across her features. "This is why I bought you that CD for Christmas you know."

Bernie does; her own segment of the Rosetta audio language library Serena has been compiling most of her adult life. She also knows that Serena struggles herself to understand Mrs Jenkins when she really gets going and she really gets going when Mrs Driscoll is around, so it shouldn't bother Bernie so much. They wouldn't even have this trouble if they'd chosen a less rural location. Wouldn't have quite such a sheep problem either, but Bernie suspects now is not the time to bring that up.

"I said you'd call her in the morning." And she knows the women had heard and understood her from the smiles and pats given to her arm before they'd tottered off out of the house again.

"I'll call her now." Serena says and Bernie clasps hold of her legs to stop her.

"You'll call her tomorrow. It's late, you've been up since five this morning. Besides," she adds when Serena looks set to argue, "you know she'd be back around here if it were urgent."

After a moment, Serena nods, relaxing back into the corner of the sofa and re-opening her book.

Bernie watches her read for a bit, the subconscious movement of her lips while she sounds out the words in her head, the little crinkling of skin between her eyebrows as she frowns over something and then scribbles a note in the margins. This is what she imagines Serena was like as a student; although likely with louder music than the low playing Bach they have on now. But still that laser focus.

"Fluent yet?" She asks eventually, biting her lip to hide her amusement at the brief flash of annoyance that slips across Serena's face before she reins it in.

With a smirk, Serena rattles off something that Bernie chooses to believe is a long-winded version of ‘yes, my love’, but suspects is actually something a lot naughtier and vaguely insulting.

"Sexy." She says, just to watch Serena burst into unashamed laughter. She’d lost a patient today and Bernie has been trying everything she can think of all night, to make her laugh. "What a cunning linguist you are."

"Oh god, that's terrible." Serena drops her book and pen to the floor and tugs her legs out of Bernie's grip, stands from the sofa and offers her hand to pull Bernie up. "Come on, take me to bed before you say something to change my mind about you."

"Yes, ma'am."

Tangling their fingers together, Bernie lets Serena lead them to the stairs, flicking off the CD player and lights as they go.

"Gate?" Serena asks halfway up, shaking her head when Bernie pulls away and heads back down.

"Coc y gath!" She mutters, tugging on her boots and grabbing Serena's coat because it's on top.

"There you go," Serena laughs after her as she steps outside; "I knew you'd pick it up eventually."

The gate _is_ locked, as it happens and Bernie realises while she's muttering her way back to the house, that's she's picked up a fair few more phrases than she thought. Won't Serena be so proud.

**Author's Note:**

> The phrase Bernie uses translates to "the cat's willy" and I've been informed is used to express displeasure or annoyance.
> 
> Ten points for anyone who can name the Victoria Wood sitcom mentioned...


End file.
